


your fingertips to knives

by TheTartWitch



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Ace Shang, Asexuality, BAMF Shang, Cat/Human Hybrids, Multi, Nor is he an idiot, Polyamory, Shang does not take your shit, Sort of incest?, The Emperor thinks Shang is adorable, There is no The Sex, Twins Mulan and Ping, just cuddles, that will carry the duty of continuing the line, unmentioned siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: When Ping is five, he grows his first set of claws. His twin, Mulan, does not.





	1. The Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> have some vaguely violent fluff. ;) (my secret weakness)

When Ping is five, he grows his first set of claws. His twin, Mulan, does not. 

His parents are proud of them both: Ping may have the teeth and nails of a beast, but Mulan wielded the formidable spirit of a wild animal. She was already hunting mice in their yard while he lounged about, his black tail flicking in the afternoon heat.

Mulan was the best sister. She’d give him her crickets and mice to chase, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt them without her permission, and help him figure out his clothes in the morning when he was still lazy and yawning. The rest of the family watched in amused silence as she corrected his grip on the eating utensils yet again. In the evenings she tended her horse and her warrior’s armor as he sleeps on their porch, keeping watch through his eyelids and twitching ears.

As they grow older, she becomes regal, beautiful in a powerful way that humans and predators alike recognize, but tells him her polite disguise is becoming harder and harder to maintain. He purrs, nudging her hand with his head where it’s lying on her lap, and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how to fix that; he’s never attempted to be anything he isn’t the way she does. She smiles at him and doesn’t say anything either. 

A week after that, they’re eighteen and beginning their work for the emperor. 

\--

Mulan stalks at the emperor’s right hand, carefully neutral stares keeping petitioners out of his way. On his left, Ping lopes, graceful as a wild cat and twice as pretty. His sleeves are long and billow around his wrists, his pants are stretchy and thin, and an empty bell  dangles from the fabric of his comfortable collar. Mulan’s bell and collar are identical to his own, though hers are a shade of brash gold and his are a glittering silver.

When they are not with the emperor, they are at the princesses’ sides, or in their own private quarters. They are never apart: they bathe together, Ping pressed to his sister’s side as she washes his hair; they eat together, testing each other’s food on the courtyard mice first; in public, Mulan sits on the long chairs and Ping drapes himself across her lap. The emperor grants them this, because it has always been this way with twins of the Fa family. 

They usually share partners, as well. All the twins that have come before have decided on one human to share between them, as though they are a beloved pet owned by both at one time, and he does not begrudge them their strange breed of happiness. Mulan has assured him they are not interested in women, and that his daughters will be safer at their sides than anywhere else, and he believes her. Fa lions protect their pride, and the emperor’s line has always been a part of that.

\--

Mulan knows something is different the moment Ping’s eyes open all the way at a public party. He is stretched across their couch, kneading at her hip with his chin, tail coiling behind them, when one of the emperor’s favored generals steps past, his newly-proven son close at his heels. She knows the boy has been studying them ( _ everyone does _ ), but she did not much care for anything about him besides his threat level until he caught her brother’s attention.

_ Ping _ , she says quietly across their heads.  _ What.  _

Ping’s tongue flicks out, a small pink fish, before disappearing. He doesn’t answer, but his eyes don’t leave the general’s son until the boy has to leave.

Mulan sighs and herds Ping to his feet. She knows the emperor will not mind giving him to them, but. Explaining Ping’s behavior will be a chore, even to the man who most understands them outside their family.

Still. The beast inside of her is exhilarated at the thought of a chase.

\--

At the meeting the next night, the emperor sits silently on his throne and allows General Li to fidget as he examines the man’s son shrewdly. Gold and Silver sit on either side of him, Gold smooth and ready at her seat on his steps, Silver loose and lazy on his soft pillows. 

“Are you sure?” He directs at Silver, almost enjoying the sight of General Li’s sudden fear. Gold and Silver are the emperor’s private spies, assassins, and enforcers. Being called in by them is almost worse than being called in by the emperor. 

Besides that, they’re… odd. Off. They don’t behave the way siblings should, ignoring each other or arguing. They’re practically intertwined. It sends chills down his guests’ spines to watch the two interact, as though they’re animals.

Silver’s tail lashes. 

“Yes,” says Gold, answering for her brother, even and cold and empty. She saves her warmth for his daughters, and for her family. She does not hand it out, especially not to a boy who’s earned her brother’s eye but not yet his loyalty. 

He glances back down at General Li. The man’s fingers tremble where they rest on the ground.

“Be honored,” he says graciously, “your son has been offered a most auspicious match.”

General Li’s son turns a brilliant shade of blue. The emperor, kindly, doesn’t mention it.

\--

Mulan does not approve. 

The boy is a fool, and a brave one to boot. 

It has been a week since their tentative matching, and they have inserted him into their joint life most fluidly. He sleeps in their rooms, tangled in a pile of limbs that used to measure four but now measures six. He humbly allows them to dress him in practical clothing that has hidden weapons pockets. At all meals, he does not eat unless they have tested it on the courtyard mice first, and when he greets others in the halls and meeting areas on the few occasions he’s not with them, they must bow lower than he does, due to his newly elevated status.

He hasn’t seen his father since the match, simply because the man threw a fit so terrible he had to be escorted from the room by guards, if only to prevent him attempting to take his son by force.

But Ping and Mulan weren’t barbarians. The boy was given a choice: a life in his father’s shadow, marrying whomever his father decided, eventually dying in the military, never truly happy because the son adopted his father’s status; or spend time with Mulan and Ping, a trial run to test their true compatibility. After all, Ping’s instincts were good for sensing what could be, but not necessarily what  _ would  _ be. It would elevate his status to the range where he could become anything he wanted, even if he was truly awful at it. 

The boy chose the obvious choice.

\--

The confrontation finally came at one of the emperor’s parties to introduce Li Shang as the consort of the emperor’s own personal servants, whose own status was almost equal to the princesses’, but in a different way. Mulan and Ping had dressed him that morning, amid lots of gift-giving (mostly weapons and clothing, but also books Shang had expressed interest in and writing utensils for when he became a teacher as he’d always wanted to be) and petting (in the form of Ping’s morning cuddles on Shang’s lap and Mulan’s scowling gentleness as she braided and pinned the hair Shang was growing out). 

His father was not amused. “Look at you,” he said, scowling at the sharpened pin in Shang’s hair. “You, the son of an honored general, reduced to nothing but the plaything of a cat and a bitch!” He reaches out a hand for Shang’s shirt. He wobbles on his feet; he’s obviously deeply drunk, or he’d never cause such a scene in public. Already the court ladies who’ve taken a liking to Shang are whispering disapprovingly. 

Shang steps backwards to avoid his father’s questing fingers at the collar of his shirt. Underneath it, Ping’s cat paw charm and Mulan’s sword are hanging from a bronze collar, symbolic of his status as a married-in member of the Fa family and only to be touched by his husband and wife, or the emperor in extreme circumstances. 

“I wish you wouldn’t say such things, Father.” He tried to placate the man, glancing around to indicate their surroundings. “Why don’t we speak again when you’ve not had so much to drink, alright?”

His father snarls, anger twisting his mouth into something unfamiliar.

From behind Shang, there’s an answering snarl, wild and pissed and entirely familiar. A hand slips around his waist, then a chin settles on his shoulder. Mulan’s needle-sharp voice whispers, “Is this man bothering you, kitten?”

It’s a common endearment in her family, but his father sees it as something else entirely. He starts forward, fists clenching and dropping the glass he’d been attempting to drink from onto the emperor’s floors. Despite spending copious amounts of time with the man, he was still slightly fearful of what the emperor would think of cracked floors. 

Mulan pulls him backwards quickly, fingers of her free hand flashing towards her hidden knife sheath, and Ping gets between Shang and General Li, fangs bared and claws long and threatening.

“Enough,” booms the emperor, one long arm raised to point at the honored general. Guards finally reach them to escort the man away, and Mulan and Ping don’t leave his side for the rest of the night.

\--

He doesn’t see his father again for months, but this time the avoidance is intentional. Mulan and Ping come to see his first class full of nobles’ children ( _ and the first one for the peasant children _ ) to frighten them into submission (Mulan) and cuddle on his lap whenever he sits down (Ping). 

If anyone else believes the same as his father, they’re not brave enough to say it to his face, but several people sneer in his direction and conveniently disappear soon after, only to make their way to him later and beg his forgiveness. He always lavishes more attention on his husband and wife after that.

For when they can’t accompany him, the emperor hires three bodyguards. It’s more show than anything (he’s always been competent with fighting, and Mulan regularly spars with him), but he knows it eases his spouses’ minds to know he’s being watched after. At first it chafed, knowing he was being watched like a child, but he hardly notices them anymore. 


	2. The Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bent over for anyone lately?” Jeers one of his father’s trainees as Shang walks past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the argument isn't between Shang and his spouses, don't worry. It's actually more of a grudge match, though.  
> enjoy!  
> if you want to see more one-shots in this verse, don't hesitate to prompt me! :)

In the mornings, Mulan wakes first to watch the sun rise, leaving Shang and Ping tangled together in the sheets. Ping crawls across the bed to Shang’s side, burrowing into the warm space left by Mulan’s absence. 

By the time breakfast is ready, Mulan and Ping have dressed themselves and converged on Shang, petting their hands across his back and shoulders until he’s ended up clothed without realizing it, he’s so relaxed. Not long after that, they’re out on their porch, Mulan standing and Ping and Shang sitting and handing her food up to her. Ping sits in Shang’s lap, purring into his husband’s neck, and Mulan rests her thigh against the back of Shang’s head. At this point they’ve been together for so long he presses against their touches instinctively.

Shang enjoys touching. He likes Mulan’s hand on the back of his neck, warm and safe. He likes Ping’s tendency to occupy his lap whenever he sits. He likes the way they always know where he is, and always tell him where they’ll be if he needs them. He likes how they all share one bed, how Ping wraps himself around the nearest warm body and his tail around the other, how Mulan gives him knives and books as presents because she can’t manage to say “I love you” out loud yet. He likes how it’s friendly and calm and content and peaceful and… he likes how happy his life makes him, simply by waking up and thinking about his day to come. 

It makes him feel bad to say it, but he likes how little his father is involved in his life now. He likes how Mulan was ready to defend him from the one man Shang shouldn’t have needed protecting from, and how Ping stepped between him and the danger. 

He likes himself. He likes teaching. 

But sometimes, he doesn’t like what people believe about him. 

\--

“Bent over for anyone lately?” Jeers one of his father’s trainees as Shang walks past. There’s instant silence as Shang glances over, eyes quickly locking onto the one who’d spoken. He’s the only one the other soldiers are leaning away from, their eyes averted from Shang or the man’s. Shang’s bodyguards put their hands casually on their scabbards; they’re aware of how little actually happens in Shang’s shared bed, and they’ve become fond of him and the way he sneaks them bits of his dessert whenever he can. 

Shang doesn’t move to stop them, but he doesn’t stop staring at the man either. Shang’s father isn’t there or he’d discipline the man just for speaking to a higher noble this way, despite how hypocritical that would be. His father cared about things like power and respect, and took every opportunity to suck up to those above him and brag to those below. 

“Well?” Says the man impatiently, taking a step forward. He doesn’t seem to notice Shang’s guards, but that’s alright. Shang’s stronger than them anyway, and cleverer to boot. They’re just there to keep him from needing to use his skills. 

Shang studies him. He’ll remember this face, and tomorrow, during practice sparring, he’ll kick this man’s ass into the dust. After that, he’ll proceed to the court, find this man’s noble father, and warn him to mind his son’s manners if he wants the boy to succeed in life. 

Plan decided, Shang nods to himself and goes to step away. As he turns something clatters, and he looks back to the sight of his challenger hacking on the ground, Shang’s largest guard standing over him. There’s an unusually violent look on the calm guard’s face. 

“Chan Po?” Shang calls, refusing to acknowledge the fallen trainee. Shang has  _ guards _ , for crying out loud, an attack from behind isn’t going to do anything.

“Nothing, Lord Shang,” the man says. The normal dreamy quality is back in his voice, and they continue on without looking back.

\--

Shang’s gratified by his father’s gaping mouth as he leaves the ring, his opponent a kneeling mess of fear and confused sexual tension. Thanks to Mulan, Shang’s good at pinning someone in ways that will leave them baffled or hard long enough for him to escape, and he’s not ashamed of using that on a man who should have noticed his own half-hard cock through his own clothes. Shang did. Shang doesn’t even like penis and he noticed it. Goodness.

Ping, curled at the edge of the arena, combs his fingers through his hair and purrs. His slitted eyes study Shang’s opponent with disdain, but he simply climbs into Shang’s lap when Shang sits. 

“Good job,” Ping whispers into his throat, curling his arms around Shang’s neck, and Shang grunts back and pets Ping’s hair. He’d like to push his own face into Ping’s shoulder, but that’ll have to wait until they’re not in public.

Now he just has to find that boy’s father, and his plan will be complete.

\--

The emperor is watching with amusement as Shang airs his complaints to one of the noble men with a threatening halo of calm and innocence. The boy doesn’t seem to notice the flecks of blood on the towel slung over one shoulder, undoubtedly from punching and breaking someone’s nose.

He smiles softly to himself. 

Shang is soft. He could have ordered a challenge match, or sentenced the man to death, or had him given to a favored lord or lady to own for a year, or some such. Instead, he chooses to teach the boy a lesson (and possibly seduce him at the same time) and complain to the boy’s father, and the noble knows it, too.

Gold, standing at his side as still and graceful as ever, hisses under her breath at the noble and his son. She despises hearing of people underestimating or insulting her bronze husband, but delights in the fact that he’s clever and strong enough to counter with an argument or match that puts them in their place. He’s surprisingly muscular for an elementary teacher.

_ Well _ , sighs the emperor,  _ at least they’re happy. Now the girls and I will simply have to speculate about kittens. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K I T T E N S  
> (the emperor is low-key more involved in their non-existent sex life than they are.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be continued, but don't hold your breath please. I'll either pump it out and you'll get it sometime this week, or it'll become one of those things I mean to finish, forget, and then can't muster up the enthusiasm later. So please let me know what you think!


End file.
